


Almost

by Catofox



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fight Scenes, Gen, Ouch, blu pyro - Freeform, but hes ok really, hes ok i promise, i think, ill let yall decide on that one, poor scout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catofox/pseuds/Catofox
Summary: scout is working on capturing some intelligence,and almost makes it without a hitch.almost.
Kudos: 11





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

> heres something i wrote a little while ago,thought id post it while i work on mirror. enjoy!

The battlefield is loud. Always. It feels almost like home to him,though. However dusty,loud,and vicious,it feels almost like home.

Only almost.

Scout kicked up dust as he dashed behind a building,leaning right against the wall by the corner to reload the scattergun he held.  _ Pop! _ Went the spent cartridges,falling forgotten into the dirt. They joined the many,many before them,and probably would be joined by many more. He fished in his pocket for new ones,and loaded them up,before sprinting back into the fray,jumping behind an enemy demoman and firing off a new round right into his head with a punchy,cracking  _ POP _ he’d grown to love very much. He never had much of a problem with his job. He got paid for it,and boy was he good at it. He was fast. He'd always been. He spun around,and popped the other one off into the face of the spy lurking just behind him,knife raised to give him a swift end. He hadn't been fast enough. Scout was almost always faster.

Only almost.

Deciding on a new mode of fire,he put away his scattergun in favor of his favorite weapon in the world. The bat felt heavy,but not too heavy in his hands. It felt powerful. Good.  **Right.** He sprinted off,leaving the two corpses behind. He cast only a passing glance at the Heavy and the Medic,who mowed down another herd of the BLU team once Medic popped the ÜberCharge on Heavy. He had a little smile. This one was going well. Nobody on their end had died or even gotten badly hurt.  _ CRACK!  _ He hefted the bat,and brought it down swiftly onto the opposing scout’s head. He hadn’t been looking. He ran off,barely dodging the bullets zipping past him. Someone shot a rocket at his feet. He jumped out of the way,getting behind a crate just in time for the shrapnel not to hurt. Badly,that is. His ears were ringing. A sharp static crack in his ear meant someone was trying to speak to him. “Hello? Yeah?” he asked into the mic at his face,hoping to be heard over the noise. “Ah,good. Making sure you’re alright.” Sniper’s hushed voice responded through the earpiece. “Barely. Jesus.” he scrambled to his feet and managed to get close enough to the offending soldier to whack his rocket launcher right out of his hands. With a swift  _ WHACK  _ of the bat,his helmet clattered to the ground. He swiftly bolted off before he got his bearings again,giving the others ample time to give him a swift end. He was almost having fun.

Only almost.

There. There's the door. Most of the others had made it inside already,and he knew Sniper was probably on his way down from wherever he was holed up to join them. He dashed inside,ignoring the gunfire still hailing around him. He slid into the hall,looking around. He could hear most of the heat of the battle down the right hall,so he figured that was definitely the way to go. The tile made a rather satisfying noise underneath his feet,though the traction was suboptimal. Still, that’s what he was trained for. He had barely made it through the doorway when an arrow missed his face by about an inch. He yelped a curse,and ducked rather quickly when the next one came. Running behind a slightly raised wall,he gave a quick scan of the upper areas of the large,large room to possibly give him an idea where the sniper may be. The rattling of hundreds of bullets per minute wasn’t helping his focus,however.  _ There,  _ he thought,seeing faintly,in the dark by the ceiling,a bow being drawn back. Aimed for Medic. He leaped over the small wall of his hiding place,hurriedly shoving the taller german out of the way of the oncoming projectile. He looked up,noticing the same thing Scout did,and pointed,shouting a thanks to Scout as he ran off,no doubt having doomed that sniper to a very quick end. He almost regretted it.

Only almost.

Finally slipping past most of the crowd,the amount of skulls he needed to crush in was getting more sparse,as less people realized he was there. More and more of them were in the bigger room,or dead. Exactly what he needed. He practically jumped down some of the stairs, trying to very quickly get down to the basement. He nearly tripped running down one ramp. Finally,there was the door. He looked for any traps,alarms,anything. Aside from the blaring alarms already,and the keypad,nothing. He reeled back and gave the keypad two good whacks. It finally crunched and gave,and he swung the door open. Perfect. The briefcase was right there. Checking around,listening past the noise,though the gunfire was rather distant now,he grabbed it and ran like hell. Just in case. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. One of his favorite feelings in the world. His legs sore,his lungs slightly burning,his heart drumming in his chest...running. He loved nothing more than running. Scout had always been a runner. From the time he was a kid,he was a runner. He ran track. He ran in the yard. He ran to school. He ran up the stairs. Any chance he got to run,he took. Scout almost never felt more alive then when he was running. 

Only almost.

Climbing the stairs was a little easier,though he couldn't slow down. If anything, now he had to speed up. The time he had was limited. As soon as someone noticed he was gone,they’d come looking. As soon as someone knew he had the briefcase,they’d come looking. He muttered into his mic as he ran. “Yo,anyone there? Anyone hear me?” it was a long few moments before anyone answered. The static creeped into his headset,as Medic’s familiar voice came through. “Do you have it,Junge?” he asked,the thunder of footsteps and rattling of gunfire muffling the question. “Hell yeah i got it. Tell the boys to round up and get the hell outta here,we’ve gotta move.” he responded,and sprinted even faster. He knew he was starting to get shot at again as soon as he entered the room. This was getting tight. His lungs felt heavy. Shit. He knew he couldn't run much more. They had been fighting for quite a while just to get into the base in the first place. He ignored it. He had more important things to worry about. Heavy took the rear,shooting at anyone who dared to follow. Scout threw the briefcase Sniper’s way,who caught it nearly flawlessly. He then whipped his bat back out to help Heavy with defense. The door. Past that,the field. Then, their car. Closer,closer. Almost. Almost. His legs actually started to hurt. He ignored them. He could rest when he got to the car. Even still,he could practically feel himself getting slower. His head was getting slow. Just a little. Just a little too slow for his liking. There weren’t many BLU team members in pursuit of them anymore,so it wouldn’t be that big of a problem. He decided,lagging behind,it was best to turn around and run that way. Just sprint. He just needed to get a little further. Just a little. He almost made it.

Only almost.

_ Click! F _ **_WOOSH!_ **

A spark. Then a light. He very suddenly felt a white hot burst of what almost felt like water at first hit his back,then spread within seconds. It took about a second more for alarm bells to start blaring in his head. Sharp, hot, scalding pain was climbing and climbing,and spreading faster than anything. It was only now that he realized he was on fire. He's on fire. It took him a few seconds more to realize he was screaming. It was hot. Impossibly hot. It felt like he was lying on the sun. it felt like his back was cracking like slightly dried paint. It felt like there was water on his skin,but it was boiling,trying to escape something. The crawling was too much to take. He tripped and fell hard,the gravel badly tearing up his hands,but that pain was deliberately ignored in favor of the blinding pain that had spread down to nearly his legs by now. He could  _ feel _ it moving. He couldn't stop from trying to roll,trying to stop it,but that hurt too. It was too much. Too much too fast. His ears were ringing. He could only barely hear the closer shouts of familiar voices. A few swift gunshots. The punchy sound of a flamethrower died quickly,which was probably the same as its owner seconds before. He didn't know. Nothing made sense in his brain anymore, the adrenaline was making everything too fast and blurry. His heart was fluttering so fast. He couldn't move anymore. It was so so hot. He couldn't tell if he was still burning,or if that was just because of what the flame left. It didn't matter. Either way,the pain was starting to be too much for his body to handle. The edges of his vision darkened and blurred out. His hearing was starting to fade and warp too,though that could’ve also been from his headset,no doubt fucked up from the intense burst of heat. He thought,maybe,someone called his name. He couldn't put his finger on it,though. 

_ It burns. _

Then, it all went dark,and he finally,finally,fell unconscious.


End file.
